The HamaTrio Chronicles
by kolachess
Summary: Skill knows his brother is stubborn—he was the only person to graduate Facultas, a school for Minimum-holders, without a fully-developed Minimum. Skill just didn't expect his best friend and partner-in-crime, who's had the most massive crush on said brother for years, to be equally stubborn. Collection of AU one-shots, from humor to angst to all in between. Nice/Art.
1. Matchmaker

**Note **\- _09/24/2014 - _I've finally updated Art's brother's name! And since is mean and won't let us copy paste stuff anymore, I can't copy my original note. But to recap, it basically entailed something like how (written as of the end of S1) I felt like there was more to Art's brother than the show had thus far revealed (and I was right!) and how I don't really know what kind of person he actually was so this was my take on him.

Also, because Skill never died, Nice might be a little OOC or at least slightly different from the show, since he 'grew up' with Skill. :) Otherwise, enjoy!

* * *

**~*~ Matchmaker ~*~**

Skill knows his brother is stubborn—he was the only person to graduate Facultas, a school for Minimum-holders, without a fully-developed Minimum. He just didn't expect his best friend and partner-in-crime, who's had the most massive crush on said brother for years, to be equally stubborn.

Skill yawns loudly and draws another Pocky stick from the box on top of the dashboard of the car they were currently crammed in. "Remind me why we're here again?" he asked in a dull tone, although the query was made mostly out of boredom rather than actual seeking of information.

Nice frowned. "Aren't you at all worried that the Ginza killer might be someone on the task force? It might explain how the bastard is always one step ahead of us," he responded before returning his attention to the front of the police building.

Skill glanced sideways at his partner and puffed his cheeks at him. Lethargically, he shifted so that he was leaning against the steering wheel and rested his chin on it. "Hm. Yup. Except that the Ginza killer operates mostly in _Ginza_, and this is _Yokohama_. And it's not at all suspicious looking for us to be _loitering_ near a _police station_. Let's not worry about that. Instead, let's worry about where my brother picked out that god-awful tie today. Eurgh. But actually, let's not worry about that either. Because all that really matters is that my brother is… '_gorgeous and look at that smile, I kind of want to run my fingers through'_ – ok, please just stop. Can you be _any_ more of a sap?" Skill complained while making a face, staring at the figure of his brother a few dozen meters away, where the latter was smiling and chatting with another man in a business suit.

Nice glared at him. "Hey no one asked you to use your Minimum right now. And can you not? What if Art senses you?"

Skill rolled his eyes. "What if he does? He'll realize we're stalking him? Uhhh, hate to burst your bubble, Nice, but Nii-san already knows we're stalking him. It kind of goes with the twin thingy, you know? We have this constant presence in our mind and know where each other are blah blah blah—oh look, here he comes now," he finished with a cat-got-cream grin.

"What? Skill!" Nice yelped in indignation before sitting up properly and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible before Art walked up to the driver's side of the car and leaned down against the car door frame.

Skill acquiesced to the unspoken request and lowered the window. "Yaaah, Nii-san! We were just in the neighborhood, checking in on you and letting Nice—ow!" He was interrupted by a sharp thump on his head, courtesy of Nice.

"Shuddup, idiot," he mumbled. Then, making eye contact with Art, he attempted a sore smile and scratched his cheek uncertainly. "Hey, Art," he greeted.

Skill rolled his eyes, though that went unseen by his brother. Thank goodness the Mind-Reading Minimum was privy to the younger twin only, Nice thought in that brief moment. Art smiled at the pair in response, though the amicable smile he shared with Nice transformed into a slightly dark smile when it landed on his brother. "Skill…what are the two of you doing here?" he asked in that smooth tone of his, although it carried with it a hint of accusation.

Skill beamed. "Because of our undying love for you of course, brother dearest. We couldn't stand to be away from you for the entire day," he sang out.

Art gave him baleful look. "Skill…I don't know what you're here for…but stay out of trouble, hmm? The two of you have an unofficial record with the station. I sincerely hope you don't ever turn it into a permanent one." Turning to Nice, he offered an apologetic smile and said, "Sorry, Nice, that Skill is always dragging you into things."

"Not at all!" Nice replied a little quickly. Skill snickered beside him, and he resisted the urge to smack his friend. Instead, he smiled a little sheepishly and said, "Skill and I are partners. We drag each other into trouble, but we land in trouble as a team," he finished the statement with an affirming nod.

Both twins stared at him. "Way to help our case, dumbass…" Skill mumbled, while Art tried to stifle a chuckle at the creeping realization and embarrassment covering Nice's face.

"Alright. I suppose I'll let you off the hook _this _time—" Art started.

"Yay! Nii-san is the best—" Skill cut in with a happy yelp.

"—_but, _you must leave now and don't loiter around again. _And_, stop poking your nose into the Ginza affair. That is strictly police business, with which _civilians_ have no place in. Got it?" Art reprimanded.

"Yessiree," Skill mock saluted. "Does that mean you won't be home again, tonight?" the younger twin inquired with a pout.

"…I have to do the write-up by tonight, so whenever that is done with—"

"I'll take that as a no, then. It's not loitering if we come deliver dinner, right?" Skill half pondered out loud, half asked Art.

"You don't have to worry about—" Art started with a soft smile.

"It's alright. We have nothing better to do anyways, if we don't have the Ginza case to work on. We don't have anything better to do, do we, Nice?" Skill asked his friend suggestively.

Nice blinked. "Uh…no?"

Skill grinned maniacally at Art. "Nope! We don't have anything better to do. I'll pick up some yakisoba and donuts, kay? Nii-san better make time to eat with us. It's a date," Skill concluded while simultaneously starting up the car. "Later Nii-san!" he said before Art had a chance to reply and drove off.

Nice turned to look at the diminishing figure of Art through the back window. "Really, Skill? Just like that?"

Skill shrugged. "Give him the chance and he'll keep arguing. That's how he is. He can't argue if the food is staring at him right in the face now can he? Plus, you know he'll cave into anything sweet. He can eat out the entirety of MisuDou if you allowed him."

Nice finally sat back down in his seat. "Yeah…"

Skill nodded. "Ok, great. So you ready for your date tonight?" he asked casually.

"Hmm…wai—what?" Nice let out. "What date?"

Skill rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time in the past hour. "Your date with my brother, _duh_. I can't actually make it, kay?"

"What! But you said we have nothing better to do—"

"_We_ don't. But _I_ do. Don't worry. Get the coffee-gel-filled, maple-glazed donuts. Nii-san will automatically love you forever and ever if you do."

"_Skill!_"

_~End_


	2. Circle - Angst, Nice vs Art AU

**Note:** Hey I'm back! So…in light of the direction Re:Hamatora is going in, this is a little bit inspired by that. I know originally HamaTrio Chronicles was supposed to be humor, but as it is a collection of one-shots, I had a feeling I'd be adding some angst at some point (sorry!). So a little dark, not that nice to read, and maybe just a teeny bit depressing. But remember these are all one-shots, meaning nothing's permanent ;).

**Warning:** violence,major character death

* * *

**Circle**

Nice coughed weakly, feeling the wetness of blood in his throat and attempting to breathe through it all. "A-Art…" he whispered, trying to crane his head to see the other from his position on the ground. His vision was getting shaky and black dots were beginning to form on the peripherals, but that didn't stop him from seeing the one thing that left his chest feeling hollow—cold, metallic eyes reflecting the moon. Of all the details that swam around in a haze of delusions, the stark contrast of such a dead and empty expression against his friend's normally gentle and warm demeanor was the only one that didn't, that struck out at him almost like a hallowing light.

"Art…" he spoke the name again. It wasn't even a plead anymore, as he'd lost the energy to beg, which he would have and did—he'd beg over and over again if he'd thought it would bring Art back, bring _his_ Art back, his best friend, his—

With a grunt of pain, he managed to flip himself over, letting his eyelids slide shut as a few tears escaped. He could hear footsteps from above him, but he didn't want to look, not anymore. He ran the risk of choking on his blood in this position, he knew. But it wasn't like it mattered much anymore—a punctured lung, a stab wound in his upper left thigh, a gash across his abdomen, a twisted ankle, multiple spots of internal bleeding…and a broken will. He let out a small chuckle. "…this how you wanted…t'break me…Art?" he slurred his words throughout a few breaths.

The former head inspector didn't answer, his pale violet eyes bearing down on the dying Minimum holder below him. He knelt down slowly and silently, looming over Nice and watching him struggle to breathe.

"…why?" Nice managed after a few seconds of only his raspy breathing echoing in the empty room. For a moment, he thought Art was cruel enough to deprive him of even that—the knowledge of what exactly it was he was dying for, but then—

"…you know don't you, Nice?" Art's silky voice, as beautiful and entrancing as ever, came like a blessing to Nice, who split into a huge grin and laughed a little. Despite the lack of warmth of the tone, despite the deadness it carried, it was still music to Nice's ears and a breath of life into him again.

He opened his eyes and stared straight into pale-violet eyes. "Ah…I suppose you're right," he said softly, too tired to argue. "…I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely a few moments later, channeling all his energy into maintaining eye contact, into letting Art know…

Art frowned and scoffed, narrowing his eyes at the display of openness. "It's too late for that now. Because of you, my brother—"

"No," Nice cut in, shaking his head slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, he looked at Art with the most bittersweet expression on his face. "I meant…I'm sorry…that you had to…kill me," he let out in shallow breaths.

Art's widened eyes of surprise followed by a flicker of anguish over his features were the last things Nice saw before his eyes slid shut for the last time.

_The sounds of restrained sobs, mutters of 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you' were the last things he heard. The feeling of someone pressed against his chest and cold lips on his forehead were the last things he felt._

"_I'm sorry I made you suffer so…Art" was the last thing he thought, before everything simply went away._

* * *

**End notes: **Ah and there it is. Kind of depressing...but worry not! I'm aiming to make the next one sweet! :) This was just a little snapshot of some alternate universe timeline somewhere...people can fill in their own story lines on what exactly happened to have brought Nice and Art to this point. And the chapter title, Circle, is in reference to a circle of violence, of suffering, and having no true beginning or end. I know, a bit cheesy. Ah well.


	3. Elementary - BBC Sherlock AU

**Notes:** Haha so I followed up on my promise of a happier installment! Anyways…this one is BBC Sherlock inspired. It kind of follows and kind of not some of the stuff in Sherlock. I tried to find a sort of balance between the two series's characters. Hopefully it was alright.

**Warning:** BBC Sherlock spoilers through S3 (although it might not be anything if you don't know what to look for, but it's at your own risk!)

* * *

**Elementary**

"Vasectomy."

"…huh?" Nice blinked, curious but unsurprised by the eccentric burst of a single word of seemingly entire irrelevance to the topic at hand, which—as of four hours ago—was absolute silence.

Skill suddenly sprung up from his place in the armchair, in which he'd been sitting with one leg hanging over an arm of the chair and the other dragging lazily on the ground. "The lady—the middle-aged lady that came in here the other day. She had a vasectomy," Skill stated and appeared to await some sort of response.

Nice sighed and scratched his head. "Uh…ok. Not following, Skill. Normal, remember?" he smiled and tapped his head.

Skill groaned and plopped back down in the chair. "Nice, you have the Sonic Minimum, you're not _normal_."

Nice nodded and sipped some soda. "True, but my Sonic Minimum doesn't conveniently enhance my intelligence, unlike your freaky Mind Palace minimum," he points out for what must have been the three hundredth time.

"Two-hundred and forty seven," Skill said offhandedly, tapping away with his fingers.

"Huh?" Nice echoed his earlier—yet unanswered—question to, well, basically everything that is Skill.

"It's the two-hundred and forty seventh time you've pointed out that fact to me," Skill notes.

"Ugh," Nice groaned. "And you never listen because…?"

"…only five percent of what you say is worth listening to?" Skill shot him a feral grin.

Nice glared.

* * *

"You know, I do have a cell phone," Nice grumbled when he stepped foot into the office, speaking to the occupant that he couldn't yet see but knew was present. As he turned back around to look at the door, footsteps from behind him and the sliding sound of a chair pulling out caused him to turn around and see an impeccably dressed man with pale-violet hair and a gentle smile.

"I know," Art said simply upon sitting down, interweaving his fingers and leaning forward on them.

"Of course you do," the Sonic Minimum holder sighed. "And? What is it today? Skill is the same as usual. He's all good. Devoured a book on vasectomies the other day…I learned by proxy some things I never wanted to know…" Nice shuddered while managing to find a seat at one of the plush sofas to the side of the room.

Art raised his eyebrows. "What makes you so sure I'm going to ask about Skill?" he questioned amusedly.

Nice rolled his eyes. "Are you not?" For a moment, something churned inside him, and for reasons he couldn't explain, his pulse quickened ever so slightly.

Art looked at him thoughtfully before answering. "I am."

"Hm," Nice made a noncommittal noise, appearing satisfied and bored, though that earlier feeling had now turned sour. "And? What else did you want to know? Or you want me to get him to take on a new case? I can't make any promises, just so you know."

"…I'm also going to ask about you, though," Art said airily, as if he was just waving by an idle thought, although it was one that happened to stop Nice in his tracks.

"What?"

"Or, I suppose, about the two of you," Art amended.

"Huh?" Nice really needed to strike 'huh' from his vocabulary of buffering terminologies, lest Skill thinks he's even _more_ of an idiot than he already did.

"Are you having sexual relations with my brother?" Art asked innocently.

"…_what?"_ Nice all but screeched, gaping in shock. "Excuse me? Uhh…no, not that that would be _any _of your business, brother or not," Nice ranted angrily, conveniently forgetting that that wasn't _entirely _true. He might have recalled one certain night. With lots of booze. And not very clear heads. Clearly giving head. He smacked away the mental image. "You know what…I should leave…"

"Hmm….pity. I was hoping we could talk about this over dinner," Art commented, looking a trifle disappointed, though it seemed to be more for show than anything.

"…about your brother's lack of sex life?" Nice asked incredulously, grimacing at the idea of having to talk to _Art_ about his _brother_ in _that_ context—

"More like yours, and how we might remedy that situation," Art said lightly, and in such an aristocratic manner that Nice nearly missed the underlying tone of _seduction_, and—was Art _seducing_ him? From _across the room_? Who _does _that?

"…Moral, get_ out_ of my office," came a voice near the doorway. Nice whipped his head around to find another Art—a very irked Art—standing there holding a cup of tea in hand. Extremely confused, he turned to the original—or imposter?—Art, who pouted uncharacteristically—come to think of it, Art had been entirely uncharacteristic throughout their session—before waving a hand in front of his face and shifting into a man with long silver hair and sharp razor-like teeth.

"Aww, Art, I was just trying to help," he cackled.

Art glared. "Help _who_, exactly? Your twisted sense of humor?"

Moral faked hurt by placing one hand dramatically over his chest. "That is hurtful, my dear Art. People tell me I have a wonderful sense of humor."

"If by people, you mean the collection of skulls you have at your home, I believe you," Art countered dryly, walking over and setting down his tea and closing the various files open on his desk, forcing Moral to hold up his hands in mock surrender as to not get his hands slammed on.

"Tut tut, Art. I actually was recruited by your brother dearest. Hmm…something about getting you off his case and getting Nice-kun on you…I mean, yours…?" Moral grinned, showing all his teeth.

Art fought a blush, while Nice blinked.

"Damn that Skill…" Art palmed his face in frustration and embarrassment.

Moral cackled once more before standing up. "Well, my part is done for the day. I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. Don't worry, my dear inspector, Nice-kun certainly has taken some fancy to you. And as for your brother, hmm…_I'll_ be taking good care of _him_! Ta-ta!"

"_Moral!"_

* * *

"_Really_? _Why_ does _no _one _tell_ me these things?" Nice threw up his hands in exasperation.

Skill grimaced. "Sorry, Nice. But—"

"Uh huh. So my best friend of three years who I _thought_ was dead turned out to be not dead, and his brother, whom I've been in a relationship with for the past five years, on and off during one of them thanks to _his brother dying_, is _actually an assassin_?" Nice more shouted out of disbelief than actual confirmation.

"Uh…isn't it great I'm not dead?" Skill shrugged with a weak grin. Nice glared at him while missing the subtle wince by Art.

"…and _you're_ saying that not only are you an assassin, you actually _are_ a Minimum Holder?" Nice clarified, turning his attention now to Art, who couldn't quite meet his gaze.

Art closed his eyes and nodded once. "…I'm sorry I couldn't tell—"

Nice shook his head. "Ahh—!" he let out frustrated while messing with his hair.

After a few moments of silence passed, Nice sighed and cast a glance at Art. "And? What's your Minimum? You _can _tell me _now_, can't you?" he added on the last part a little annoyed and bitter, though hurt was present in his tone as well, causing Art to slump forward in exhaustion and guilt.

"…my Minimum is the Regeneration Minimum. It was decided by Facultas that no one would know of my abilities, since it would be one most useful to Her Majesty…" Art admitted softly, trailing off towards the end.

Nice scoffed, which surprised both Art and Skill, as they'd expected some sort of outburst of disbelief from Nice. "How convenient," he said sarcastically. "A Minimum that allows you to cheat death. You could just come back from the grave time and time ag—" A sudden thought occurred to him. He whipped around, eyes wide with realization. "You— _that was you_!" he shouted at Art. "_You_ jumped from—Skill—"

Art's eyes widened as he caught onto what Nice had realized, while Skill was gradually shrinking backwards while laughing nervously. "Ahh….hahaha… uh…"

Nice, fairly certain of his assumptions now, turned fully towards Skill. "You had your _brother_ jump from a _fifty foot building _to fake _your _death? You had _my boyfriend_, dress up as _you_, and jump off a _fifty foot building_, so you could have me believe you were _dead for three years? _Which took him _a month _to fully recover from? Regenerative abilities be damned and car accident my ass!"

"Uh…Nice…you have to admit it was a good plan! Just because you didn't get any action for a month—"

"Skill!" Art groaned.

"I'm going to _kill _you," Nice promised with a murderous grin on his face.

* * *

**End notes:** Well that's that! Uh I hope I didn't mess up their characterizations too bad. I thought about making Art Sherlock but...didn't seem to fit. And Moral!Cameo! :D Hope you enjoyed.


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